


so be careful if you're wanting this touch (cause if i love you then i love you too much)

by texaswatermelon



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, condensed slow burn, unholy trinity polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texaswatermelon/pseuds/texaswatermelon
Summary: “Christ,” Cassie scoffs. “Who the hell are you? Where’s the girl that had the balls to duel me in my own classroom?”





	so be careful if you're wanting this touch (cause if i love you then i love you too much)

**Author's Note:**

> two things: one, i have no idea how the timeline of glee seasons 5 and 6 work. two, i used songs in this fic that didn't exists during the time that it takes place, but if glee doesn't have to be accurate, then neither do i.
> 
> title from _too much_ by carly rae jepson.

NYADA hasn’t changed. Of course it hasn’t—it’s an old school in an even older building. The path to each classroom is still the same; still familiar and almost comforting. The same conversations occur in the hallway, with the same types of kids with more money than tact dressed in leotards and designer sweaters, equipped with leather messenger bags and venti Starbucks cups. 

The only thing that has really changed here is Rachel, and although this place feels like home, it doesn’t hold quite the same reverence that it used to for her. None of these people are gods to her anymore—they’re just teachers and peers, and Rachel doesn’t even spare them a second glance as she passes by. She has one destination in mind, and it’s the only place in this school that still makes her sweat a little, so as she reaches the double doors to the dance studio, she stops to take a steadying breath in the hopes that she might calm some of the nerves buzzing around in the pit of her stomach before she pushes them open.

She’s early, obviously. Not the first one to arrive, but still early enough that the sound of her arrival turns heads. Rachel spots a mane of blonde hair standing near the piano and her stomach kind of twists because she has no idea what kind of reaction she’s going to get. But when Cassie finally turns to look at her, her eyebrows lift up in mild surprise before an easy smirk settles on her face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Little Miss David Schwimmer,” Cassie says, and Rachel never thought the day would come when that nickname would sound like music to her ears, but here she is. “When I heard you enrolled back here at NYADA, I thought Carmen had finally lost it. What are you doing here?”

So it’s obvious that Cassie doesn’t read her class roster before it starts, but God, Rachel has never been so happy to see a person in her entire life. It’s only been two years, and it seems impossible, but she thinks that Cassie is even more stunning than the last time they parted ways. Cassie is appraising her with too-sharp eyes, and it seems like she’s also slightly impressed with what she finds, or at the very least she’s not repulsed by the sight of her. The atmosphere is a little weird—Rachel feels like they left on good terms, but that was only a small percentage at the end of half a year of hell. She has no idea which version of Cassie she’s going to be treated to this time around.

“I’m enrolled in your class this year,” Rachel says with a shy smile.

Cassie’s eyes narrow just slightly, and Rachel finds the look she’s getting very uncomfortable, like all of her secrets are simply laid bare like a book for Cassie to read. It takes everything in her power not to squirm under that gaze.

“Was Broadway not everything you dreamed it would be?” Cassie asks. It’s not mean, exactly, but it is cutting nonetheless. Rachel nearly flinches, but just shrugs her shoulders instead.

“I decided that I have more to learn, so I came back to learn from the best.”

“You should know by now that flattery gets you nowhere in this class, Schwimmer,” Cassie replies, but she’s smirking now and Rachel feels kind of okay about this encounter. “Go ahead and warm up, then. Let’s pray for both of our sakes that you’re not as bad as you were when you started your Freshman year.”

Rachel tries to ignore that jab. It’s still not very malicious—it almost sounds like Cassie is remembering their first few weeks together fondly. She’s not sure what to do with this version of her teacher who just sort of dryly cracks jokes (sometimes at her expense), but doesn’t actually attempt to break her down or wound her. But Rachel does as she’s told and makes her way over to the barre to begin her stretches. As she’s passing by, Cassie catches her by the wrist.

“It’s good to see you, Rachel,” she says, and it’s so sincere that all Rachel can do is smile widely and duck her head.

After the students have finished trickling in, Cassie starts the class by rapping her cane on the floor. Rachel notices immediately that it’s the one she gifted Cassie after midterms that year, and feels a bit of pride swell up in her chest.

“Alright, listen up. Welcome to Dance 201. I had hoped that maybe your hormones would have kicked in over the summer and I’d get to teach a room full of adult humans this year, but I see that my hopes have been dashed and I’ll be working with pre-pubescent monkey children. For those of you expecting to have an easier time this year just because you barely managed not to fail out of my class before, you can think again. I kept a few of you around because it’s that much sweeter to break you after you think you’ve already succeeded. So buckle up, kiddos! Just when you think you’ve reached the ninth circle of Hell, I’ll be there to drag you into the sub-basement.”

She sets them off on a relentless round of jetés, and Rachel feels that familiar mix of nerves and determination settle in her veins. This is what she came here for: to be pushed and scrutinized under the relentless gaze of the best dance teacher in the country. She watches Cassie circle the room, launching scathing criticisms at her classmates that would make even Santana lose confidence in herself. Rachel takes deep, steadying breaths and corrects her posture as she steps up to take her turn. Cassie’s eyes fall on her—she can feel the weight of them like anchors on her chest as she launches herself in the air. Her feet connect with the ground again and Rachel prepares for the onslaught. 

“Stretch that leg while you’re waiting in line. I need to see more extension on your next turn,” Cassie corrects her evenly as she walks past.

Rachel nearly trips over herself, and she turns to stare at Cassie in shock. But Cassie has already moved on to criticize the next person’s jeté, so Rachel can only take her place in line and obey Cassie’s suggestions to improve her form.

The class continues in a similar fashion for the next two hours. They do form exercises until their bodies are sweaty and exhausted. Cassie barks insult after insult at most of her classmates until one person eventually ends up in tears. Rachel keeps bracing herself for when her time comes, but it never does. Even when she stumbles out of a piqué turn into one of her peers, Cassie simply steadies them both with firm hands and an eyebrow raised in Rachel’s direction.

“It’s dance class, Schwimmer, not the NYADA Bowling Classic,” she says dryly.

By the time it’s all over, Rachel feels like she’s been granted some sort of immunity in a massacre. She should feel good about this. She spent half a year being the sole target of Cassie’s ire, only to finally prove herself and reach a detente, of sorts. Now she’s being treated with respect, just like she always wanted. But as she gathers her things and leaves the studio with only a brief parting glance between herself and her teacher, Rachel can’t help but feel like she’s being cheated out of something important.

xx

Their Dramatic Arts course is held in a theatre across the street. Kurt’s taking this class with her, thank God. She’s never had a problem being on her own, but it’s always nice to have a friendly face in a room full of extremely competitive performers. They take a seat near the front left, and Kurt drops his bag onto the seat beside him with a groan.

“It’s only the first week and I already have eight hours worth of reading to do,” he laments. “I thought taking a history of playwriting class would be interesting, but I actually think I’d prefer to have my ass kicked around the dance studio with you. How was your reunion with your biggest fan, by the way?”

Rachel shrugs. “She was...nice. She’s not doing any ass-kicking so far, anyway.”

“Well that’s a good thing, right?” Kurt asks suspiciously. “Last time, she wanted to eat you alive for the fun of it.”

“I don’t know. I just…” Rachel twirls her hand around, searching for the right words. “I came back to NYADA hoping to be pushed. No one ever pushed me harder than Miss July.”

Kurt levels her with a severe look. “That’s the last can of worms you should be opening, Rachel. The other day I heard a Freshman saying that a guy in her class asked if they were going to be learning something more challenging than pirouettes and Miss July told him that he was dismissed from class for the rest of the semester and she expected him to come back for his midterm and complete a flawless rendition of Odile’s climactic solo from _Swan Lake_ or she would fail him on the spot.”

Rachel balks at that, and for a moment she thinks it can’t actually be true, but she knows what Cassie can be like when someone challenges her. It’s probably not even the most outlandish thing she’s ever done to a mouthy student.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate her being constructive instead of malicious, but I guess I just came to appreciate her unconventional methods after some time away and now I feel like I’m not getting the full benefit of her tutelage,” Rachel explains.

Kurt looks at her like he doesn’t believe that for a second, but then class is starting and he doesn’t have time to call her out on her bullshit.

xx

It continues like that for several more classes. Rachel keeps waiting, even hoping for Cassie to rip into her during class, to give her an excuse to steel herself and really dig into her determination to prove someone wrong. It doesn’t happen though. Cassie’s interactions with her range anywhere from mild annoyance to fond exasperation, even when Rachel starts purposely giving subpar performances during class just to try to get a rise out of her. When it’s clear that her tactics aren’t working, Rachel decides to hang back after class one day.

“Cassie?” she says, approaching her teacher at her desk. As Cassie turns to look at her, Rachel realizes that name might be a little too familiar and falters. “I mean, Cassandra. Miss July.”

Cassie has the barest hint of a smirk on her face as she watches Rachel flounder. “Cassie is fine, Schwimmer. What do you need?”

“I noticed that it seems like you’re treating me a little bit...differently than some of the other students,” Rachel starts, and then flushes when Cassie raises an eyebrow at her. “That doesn’t sound right. I just mean that you’re being a lot harder on my classmates than you are to me. Last time, you were on my case constantly, and although it was very trying at times, I appreciated the challenge. Not that you’re class isn’t challenging—that’s not what I mean at all. I don’t think I’m explaining this right.”

Cassie turns to lean against the edge of her desk, fingers tapping the worn wood as she watches Rachel stumble over her words like an idiot.

“Are you saying you liked it better when I insulted you to tears and ripped your confidence to shreds on a daily basis?”

It sounds so stupid when she puts it like that, and Rachel feels embarrassment flood her chest. She shouldn’t have even brought this up.

“I like that we’re not fighting all the time,” she tries again. “I respect you so much and I think you’re an amazing teacher. I just know how much I improved when you pushed me, and I was hoping to continue that streak this year.”

“I taught you like that because I could tell that’s what you needed at the time. You were cocky and self-assured. You needed to be knocked down a few pegs in order to survive out there. And it clearly worked,” Cassie says, gesturing vaguely to Rachel. “They don’t give the role of Fanny Brice to just anyone.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Rachel mutters darkly. 

Cassie observes her quietly, and for a moment Rachel wonders if she’s crossed some line and Cassie is going to flip the switch and go back to hating her again.

“I could go back to yelling at you and telling you that you’re an incompetent fool in front of all of your classmates again, but I’d just be wasting my breath. That method has gotten all of the mileage it’s going to get.”

Rachel frowns. She wants to protest, but she also doesn’t want to press her luck. Especially when Cassie is doing what Rachel wanted her to do all along in her Freshman year.

“Look, Schwimmer,” Cassie sighs, “if you’re really invested in being the best, then you need to put in the time. I actually need a new TA this year, if you’re interested.”

Rachel actually laughs at that for a second until she realizes that Cassie isn’t laughing with her.

“Wait, you’re serious?” she asks. “But what happened to Brody?”

“He got a gig touring with Ariana Grande as a backup dancer or something,” Cassie replies with a bored lilt that suggests she isn’t very impressed.

“Cassie, I’m really flattered,” Rachel says haltingly. “But I’m not...I mean, I don’t think I’m a good enough dancer to be your TA.”

“Christ,” Cassie scoffs. “Who the hell are you? Where’s the girl that had the balls to duel me in my own classroom?” Rachel blushes and scuffs her feet on the floor. “Take the offer or leave it, Schwimmer, but don’t question my choices. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were good enough.”

And really, that admission alone should be enough to boost Rachel’s confidence to the stars. It makes her feel warm and a little bashful. She tries not to smile too widely, and probably fails judging by the slight eye roll that Cassie’s currently executing. 

“Yeah,” Rachel says, shaking her head at her own stupidity. “Of course I’ll do it. Thank you.”

“Glad we settled that,” Cassie says, like she was expecting this outcome all along. “Can you start this weekend?”

Rachel can’t think of any reason to say no, so she nods her head and then quickly excuses herself before she overstays her welcome anymore than she already has.

xx

In a weird turn of events, both Brittany and Quinn decided to transfer out of their respective schools and enroll in NYU. Brittany and Santana get an apartment together shortly after getting married, and it seems only natural that Quinn join them as their roommate once she makes the decision to move to New York. It’s clear that Brittany has done most of the decorating in the apartment, with its bright colors and eclectic decor, but Rachel can see touches of all three girls throughout the place. The dark throw pillows across the couch scream Santana, while the massive bookshelf in the corner has almost certainly been filled by Quinn.

Brittany greets her at the door with a bright smile that warms Rachel’s heart, and drapes her long arms around Rachel’s shoulders in a tight hug. These friendships are the reason that she knows she made the right choice to come back to the city, regardless of whatever doubts she may have. Brittany leads her to the kitchen and serves her hot chocolate (and it’s not nearly cold enough for this yet, but it’s just so Brittany to serve hot chocolate in the lingering heat of summer that Rachel can’t find it in her to be too perturbed) and sits close to Rachel while they talk.

“Let me show you what I’m working on for school,” Brittany says excitedly, and pulls out her laptop to demo an app that she’s making. “It’s supposed to help kids who have learning disabilities by teaching them with different games that help with memory and concentration.”

Santana enters the kitchen as Brittany’s showing Rachel how the app works. She stands with her hip propped against the counter, and Rachel glances up to catch her with the softest look of adoration on her face as she watches Brittany explain her ideas. Santana tries to school her features once she realizes that Rachel’s watching her, but she’s completely unsuccessful, and Rachel grins cheekily before refocusing on Brittany’s work.

“Brittany, this is incredible,” she says sincerely.

“Thanks,” Brittany beams. She turns her attention to Santana, who leans down to give her a light peck on the lips. “Where’s Quinn?”

Santana launches the world’s largest eye roll in the direction of the living room. Quinn paces into view, phone to her ear. Her face is red and her expression is one of pure annoyance as she speaks quietly to whoever is on the other end of the phone.

“Puck again?” Brittany asks with a frown. “They’ve been fighting a lot.”

“That’s because that limp-dick jackass doesn’t know when to shut his fucking mouth,” Santana yells, loud enough that Puck can most certainly hear her over the phone.

Quinn shoots her a dark glare and disappears from sight and earshot. Rachel can practically feel the anger rolling off of Santana in waves, and Brittany looks a little sad.

“Well, they’ll probably work it out, right?” Rachel asks hopefully in an effort to ease some of the tension Quinn left behind. “Long distance is never easy.”

“She has a hard time knowing how to be happy,” Brittany says. Her pale gaze is unsettlingly direct, and Rachel’s not actually sure if they’re still talking about Quinn anymore.

xx

“Alright, Schwimmer,” Cassie says early Saturday morning when they meet for their first prep session. “I know being a TA sounds like a good time, but what it really comes down to is a whole lot of babysitting. Sadly for you, you have to suffer through this year’s Freshman class with me, which is a room full of twenty newborn giraffes galloping around the room as if they've been told that they were graceful swans their entire lives. So we’ll need to spend some time getting you familiar with what to look for in each step so that you can spot an injury before it happens and correct it. If one of these walking disasters looks like they're truly going to be a danger to themselves or someone around them, just have them sit the lesson out. I have no interest in the time and paperwork that results from ambulance visits to my classroom. You and I will hold office hours for the people who need individual attention.”

It’s kind of amazing watching Cassie like this—wearing a pair of simple leggings and a loose sweater, hair pulled up in the laziest of buns with very minimal makeup—while she talks about teaching like she actually kind of enjoys it, or at the very least takes it seriously. After spending half a year with Cassie at her throat every time they met, Rachel’s still not used to these reserved interactions where Cassie talks to her calmly, almost fondly, and takes the time to teach her. It allows Rachel the chance to actually witness the parts of Cassie’s personality that aren’t just pure vitriol—what makes her grin, or smile, or (God forbid) even laugh. What makes her angry. What makes her look so melancholy, like the weight of her past has come to settle heavily on her shoulders, when she thinks no one is around to see it.

Cassie notices her staring. She tilts her head to the side and one of her eyebrows twitches just slightly. Rachel blushes at having been caught.

“What, Schwimmer?” she asks expectantly. “Did you just come here to gawk at me all day? I get enough of that from my pervy students. I don’t need it from you, too.”

“I thought you liked being appreciated by your TAs,” Rachel says without even thinking about it, and then quickly realizes how stupid that is. Her eyes go wide as she stutters out an apology and prays that Cassie doesn’t flay her alive. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Cassie looks taken aback, and it reminds Rachel of the look on her face after Rachel called her a YouTube joke. But then she exhales heavily and shakes her head.

“That’s fair, I guess,” she says. Rachel can’t believe what she’s hearing, but her body stays tense in case this suddenly takes a turn for the worse. “I shouldn’t have picked up the phone that night if I didn’t want you to bring it up ever again. But you’re going to have to decide if you’re over it or not, because we’re going to be spending too much time together throughout the year for you to be harboring jealousy about Brody Weston.”

“I know,” Rachel says, shaking her head. “I’m not even upset about it anymore. Turns out that Brody wasn’t who I thought he was anyway.”

“People rarely are, Schwimmer,” Cassie replies with a piercing gaze. “So are we good now?”

Rachel nods. “Of course.”

“Okay,” Cassie says, and claps her hands together. “Hold onto your panties, Schwimmer, because I’m about to give you a master class in technique.”

Rachel chuckles and stands back to watch as Cassie delivers on her promise. She demonstrates each step that the various classes are learning with complete precision and grace. Every motion is fluid and perfect. For all of Cassie’s bravado and talent as an entertainer, she is at her core an incredibly competent dancer the likes of which Rachel can only hope to emulate one day. She breaks down the right way to complete each step, making sure that Rachel knows what to look for so that she can correct as necessary, and also how to spot an impending injury. Rachel watches with rapt attention, viewing each demonstration from every angle and jotting down notes so that she can go over them later.

“Here, come show me some of these so I can see how you demonstrate,” Cassie instructs.”And put your hair up. I’m not teaching hairography today.”

She steps behind Rachel and gathers up her hair to tie it back in a messy bun, fingers quick and gentle. Rachel can’t suppress a small shiver. It’s not as if Cassie stepping into her personal space is a foreign concept; they are in dance class after all, and Cassie has frequently used physical touch to correct Rachel's posture. But this feels somehow more intimate, and it makes the hairs on the back of Rachel's neck stand on end until Cassie steps away again.

“Okay, now let me see a fouetté,” she says, so Rachel takes a breath to steady herself before launching into the turn. “Not bad. Straighten your back after you turn and make sure you spot yourself on the wall so you don't get dizzy or over rotate. Try it again.”

It only takes a few more tries before Cassie is satisfied with her ability to perform on command. They move on to the other steps until Rachel has perfected them all to Cassie’s liking, and then she releases Rachel for a drink of water.

“You're really an amazing dancer,” Rachel says as she watches Cassie take a long pull from her water bottle.

“Yeah, well, contrary to popular belief, I didn't get this job out of pity,” Cassie says waspishly. There's irritation in the set of her jaw that Rachel truly wasn't expecting, considering the fact that she just handed out a compliment.

“You know I didn't mean it like that,” Rachel frowns. “I just meant that I'm really glad I get the chance to work with you.”

Cassie looks like maybe she regrets her little outburst, if the thin press of her lips is any indication. Rachel wonders if this is hard for her still—to believe that someone might actually have something nice to say to her without immediately turning around and talking shit behind her back. Maybe it's doubly difficult because it's Rachel, and because some part of Cassie is still on edge around her despite the difference in their relationship this year.

“You're going to be a lot less glad the first time you have to teach a kid who can't find the down beat how to tap dance,” Cassie says dryly, and Rachel sees the joke for what it is: a peace offering.

“Well, you know me. I never back down from a challenge,” Rachel replies with a grin.

“If by challenge you mean banging your head against a wall until your brain swells,” Cassie smirks.

Rachel laughs at that, and thinks that maybe they'll actually make a good team.

xx

The Freshmen aren’t nearly as terrible as Cassie makes them out to be, but Rachel supposes that if you're always comparing to perfection, then everything must look like garbage. Most of the kids are passably talented, and some of them are actually pretty amazing. There are a few who could definitely use some help, but not everyone comes to NYADA to be the next triple threat talent, and yet everyone must still suffer the gauntlet of Dance 101 with Miss July.

Cassie introduces Rachel as the new TA and tells the class to obey and fear her the same way they would Cassie herself.

“I’m not sure that's entirely necessary,” Rachel tries to interject, but Cassie cuts her off with a severe glare.

So the class continues and Rachel tries to split her time between watching the students and watching Cassie interact with them—not the way that she yells at them, because that’s Cassie’s thing and Rachel doesn’t find it helpful, but when she’s actually being constructive, it’s extremely informative.

There’s a girl named Tia who’s spent most of the class wobbling uncertainly through her routine. She’s definitely not a naturally gifted dancer, and Rachel watches as Cassie barks criticism in her direction several times. It only seems to make Tia less confident, and Rachel can see her getting ready to stumble from a mile away. Cassie sees it, too, and it’s clear that she’s getting irritated by this girl. The tirade that she’s likely getting ready to unleash is on the tip of her tongue, judging by the way her eyes narrow dangerously in Tia’s direction.

“Maybe I can try?” Rachel asks quickly, hand settling on Cassie’s arm. 

Cassie’s mouth snaps shut. She glances at Rachel’s hand on her arm for just a second, and then at Rachel herself, before nodding curtly. Rachel trots over to Tia and pulls her away from her classmates to avoid any accidents.

“Hey,” she says with a warm smile. “Let’s try taking it back to basics for a minute.”

Up close, it’s obvious just how shaken up Tia is by this class and her lack of proficiency in it. Her eyes are watery and her face is red, breath shallow like she might cry at any moment. At Rachel’s suggestion, she exhales shakily and nods her head.

Rachel has her start simple by helping her find her balance en pointe and teaches her how to use her breath to steady herself. Even on her worst days, Rachel knows that she’s an amazing singer, but there are times when she can’t find the right note or her confidence falters. When she’s about to lose her mind, she runs scales to calm down, to remind herself that she always has the foundation she needs to succeed. She uses the same principle now to help Tia gain some confidence. By the end of the class, she’s executing her piqué turns with a lot more surety than she was before. It’s not the routine that Cassie wants to see, but it’s progress at least.

“Thanks for your help, Rachel,” Tia says gratefully as she goes to pack up her stuff. “I know I’m not a great dancer. I came to NYADA because I love to write, but this class was required.”

“You did a great job,” Rachel beams. “It’s not going to get any easier, but come find us during office hours and we’ll help you get through it.”

Tia nods swiftly and scurries away like she’s just seen the devil over Rachel’s shoulder, which is how Rachel knows to turn and find Cassie standing behind her.

“Coddling them isn’t going to do them any favors, Schwimmer,” Cassie says, hand flexing around her cane. She doesn’t look mad, per se, but she also doesn’t seem happy, despite the obvious results of Rachel’s attentions.

“Not everyone is motivated by adversity,” Rachel says as delicately as possible.

“And what will she do when she faces adversity outside of the protective bubble of my classroom?” Cassie challenges.

Rachel doesn’t really know what she’s looking for here: a fight, or an excuse to kick Rachel out, or maybe even to be convinced. She just sort of shrugs.

“I guess that’s for her to figure out. But what good is this class going to do for her if she can’t even pass it?”

Cassie frowns just slightly, and it looks like she has more to say, but then she walks away to sit at her desk.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Schwimmer,” she says, and with that it’s clear that Rachel is dismissed.

xx

There’s something to be said for the way that Brittany just sort of effortlessly fits in no matter where she goes or who she’s with. Rachel has always felt like New York was her home, but it was scary and confusing when she first moved here. She got lost half a dozen times and had her money stolen twice. But watching Brittany weave through the crowds like she was born here is something enviable. They’re shopping together because Santana says that Quinn’s constant moping is stressing her out, so Rachel agrees to tag along.

“How is Quinn, anyway?” Rachel asks as Santana flicks through the racks at their current boutique.

“I came here to get away from that moody, co-dependent weirdo, Berry. Don’t ruin my shopping mood,” Santana snaps, and leaves them to examine another rack.

Rachel glances helplessly at Brittany, who shrugs and fits a news cap on top of Rachel’s head.

“She just doesn’t get why Quinn is sad over her breakup with Puck. She’s super protective of Quinn, even though she doesn’t want to admit it,” Brittany explains.

“They barely got along in high school,” Rachel reminds her. She takes the hat off of her head and places it back on the shelf as Brittany moves on to inspect the sunglasses.

“Santana always has a soft spot for the girls she sleeps with,” Brittany says offhandedly, like she didn’t just drop a huge bomb of brand new information directly at Rachel’s feet.

“What?” Rachel croaks.

Brittany has a pair of glasses on that are way too big for her face as she turns back to Rachel. “Yeah, during Mr. Schuester’s fake wedding. I thought everyone knew that.”

“Okay, Brit,” Santana interrupts, gently snatching the sunglasses from Brittany’s head. “Those are not working for you, and also not everything is meant to be shared.”

Rachel is gaping at Santana, trying to reconcile the fact that Quinn Fabray, the poster child for pretty, white, heteronormativity, slept with Santana Lopez, the reigning lesbian hopeless romantic idiot queen of Bushwick. Santana can obviously read this on Rachel’s face, because she levels a look at Rachel that dares her to speak a word more about it. And Rachel has so many questions, but in truth, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually seen Santana this...flustered before, so she drops the subject.

“I’m still trying to work on not oversharing other people’s business,” Brittany says sheepishly. 

“It’s okay, Brittany,” Rachel assures her. “We’re all still figuring stuff out.”

xx

While the less advanced Freshmen are grateful for Rachel’s calm presence in an otherwise tumultuous classroom, it turns out that some of the upperclassmen are not nearly as impressed or appreciative. Granted, Rachel is a little bit less confident when it comes to correcting them. Some of them are better dancers than she is by far, on par even with Cassie’s skill, and Rachel pretty much leaves those people for Cassie to tutor. But Rachel knows that she can learn a lot by teaching others, so she decides to try her hand at helping some of the sophomores in Dance 203 (which is a jazz-specific dance course that Cassie runs in the late afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursdays).

Nathan, a boy who looks like he’s never heard or thought a bad thing about himself in his entire life, nearly twists his ankle trying to execute the routine that Cassie has them practicing. Cassie is preoccupied with destroying another guy across the room, so Rachel puts a hand on Nathan’s shoulder to help steady him and offers him an encouraging smile. 

“If you under rotate that first turn, it makes it really hard to transition into the two-step,” she says helpfully.

Nathan jerks away from her and sneers. “I don’t need advice from you, Berry. I don’t even know why Miss July assigned you as her TA. She must feel bad for you, since you’re just as crazy as she is.”

Rachel physically recoils from him. It’s not as though she forgot that people could be cruel or nasty to her, but it’s so unexpected that it makes the acid in her stomach roil as she tries to process what he’s just said to her.

“Just stay away from me. I don’t need the stink of your failed career following me around,” Nathan finishes, and then turns his back on her to join some of his friends, who are snickering at his rude outburst.

The encounter leaves her feeling off balance and uneasy. In just a few words, Nathan’s managed to untie the ribbon that Rachel had been using to keep all of her anxiety and self-doubt neatly in check at the back of her mind. Now she’s reliving the feeling of what it was like to hang the role of her dreams on a hook in New York and fly out to LA to be a huge TV star, only to have the world ripped out from under her in a few short weeks. So she hung her head and crawled back to Lima—a failure—and resigned herself to coaching her old glee club until she could finally get Carmen to agree to let her back into NYADA.

Rachel excuses herself to go to the bathroom. Cassie looks at her like she knows something is up (and God knows what her face must look like right now), but Rachel doesn’t tell her about what happened. The last thing she needs is for Cassie to make a scene and make things even worse. She needs these kids to tolerate her in their class, at the very least, and unleashing the full and total wrath of Cassie July on them is not going to win her any favors. She’s not going to cry—that self-assured little asshole doesn’t deserve her tears. But she does need a moment to herself to try to quell the rising panic in her chest that’s trying to convince her that she’s not good enough to make it out there on her own.

Still, by the time Rachel comes back, the class has been dismissed and her mood has been soured. They’ve still got at least an hour of lesson prep to do before Rachel can go home and demolish a pint of non-dairy ice cream to make herself feel better. Cassie asks her if she’s okay, and Rachel puts on her best face to say that she is, so they get to work without much further discussion.

Rachel’s task for the evening is to get comfortable with a tap routine that the Freshmen will be working on over the course of the next week. Cassie puts her through the paces, running the routine with her several times before having Rachel do it herself. Rachel’s off her game—she keeps replaying Nathan’s words in her head rather than paying attention to the steps she’s supposed to be completing. She goes to stamp her foot, and when her shoe slips on the hardwood, she nearly goes flying. Cassie catches her, quick as always, and helps her find her footing again.

“Easy, Schwimmer,” she says, and the gentle tone of her voice just sets Rachel off.

“Please stop,” Rachel snaps, and pulls away from Cassie’s grip a little more forcefully than necessary.

Cassie’s eyebrows skyrocket into her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Just stop being so nice to me all the time,” Rachel continues, frustration flowing out of her in waves. “I didn’t come back to NYADA for you to take me under your wing. I came back here so that you would kick my ass into shape and make me a better performer like you did before, not treat me like some fragile little kid.”

“Is this Groundhog Day?” Cassie asks incredulously. “I thought we already had this discussion.”

“But you’re not listening!” Rachel shouts. “I’m asking you to motivate me! Be the Cassandra July that I met on my first day here at NYADA.”

“Jesus Christ, Schwimmer,” Cassie scoffs, arms crossed in front of her chest and expression clouded with disbelief. “I’m not your personal fucking life coach. I taught you what you needed to be taught last time, and judging by the role you landed, you obviously learned your lesson.”

“Well I guess it didn’t stick,” Rachel says icily. “While you were teaching me, I won the Winter Showcase and got the role of my dreams. And then the second I left these walls, I threw it all away on some idiotic notion that I was better than Broadway.”

The sudden realization that dawns on Cassie’s face makes Rachel’s chest constrict, and if Cassie dares to say something nice to her now, Rachel swears it will break her apart. They’re standing in the middle of the dance studio shouting at each other, just like Rachel wanted this entire time, but nothing about this feels good or right. She just feels lost.

“So. You went out into the world and made some decisions that you ended up regretting,” Cassie says calmly. The parallels that she’s drawing between the two of them are not lost on Rachel. She understands with perfect clarity how similar they are; how similar they’ve always been. “Welcome to life, Rachel. You’re not special just because you made a mistake. Your sin is one that a thousand performers before you have committed, and they all came out just fine in the end. Do you honestly believe that any insult that I can hurl at you right now is going to change your life for the better? Is it going to help you turn back time and change the course of history? Or are you just looking to be someone’s punching bag so that you can feel better about being disappointed in yourself? You like being a martyr, don’t you, Rachel?”

Every one of Cassie’s words rings true and clear across the studio. Every one of them feels like a slap directly to the face. Rachel doesn’t know what she was expecting. She thought she could beat Cassie at her own game—manipulate her into treating Rachel the way that she wanted to be treated. But this direct and brutal honesty is so much worse than any far-fetched barb that Cassie could make about Rachel’s surface insecurities. This is Cassie showing that she sees right through Rachel to her very core, that there is nothing vague or mysterious about Rachel at all. Cassie knows her, and that knowledge is both terrifying and infuriating.

“I offered to teach you the way that I was willing to,” Cassie continues. The disappointment in her voice is as sharp as glass. “If that’s not good enough for you, the door’s right there. But I’m not going to stand here and watch you turn into me, so you need to get out of my studio if that’s all you’re here for.”

There’s nothing stopping Rachel from making things right except her own stubborn pride, so she grabs her bag and leaves as asked, despite the fact that she’s pretty sure it’s not what either of them actually want. She manages to make it halfway home before she starts sobbing on the subway.

xx

She’s not sure when the Lopez-Pierce household became her go to place for comfort and friendship in times of trouble, but that’s where Rachel finds herself shortly after her spat with Cassie. Brittany listens to her complain with a sympathetic ear and a mug of hot chocolate (which is actually warranted by the weather today), while Santana stands by with crossed arms, looking completely unimpressed by her story.

“Ugh, Christ,” she grumbles after Rachel’s finished spilling all of her frustrations onto the kitchen table. “When did I open a halfway house for wayward ingénues from McKinley High?”

Quinn is in the living room reading a book, definitely within earshot. She glances up at Santana and they share a loaded look for a moment that Rachel truly wishes they had the time to unpack. Quinn ends up turning back to her book without comment and Santana rolls her eyes.

“Look, Berry, I don’t know if you’re destined to be a star, or if all of your dreams are going to come true, or whatever other bullshit you feel like you need to hear right now. But I do know that it’s sure as hell not going to happen if all you do is sit around and mope about something that’s already over. You’ve never once shut up about how talented you are, so I don’t know why you would start now. And if your hot dance teacher is offering you a way to move forward, you should stop bitching and take it.”

With that, Santana basically storms out of the kitchen. By the way Quinn is biting her lip from behind her book, Rachel’s not sure if Santana was ever really addressing her at all. She spares a glance at Brittany, who looks apologetic.

“I was just going to offer to cuddle on the couch and watch movies with you until you feel better,” she says with a shrug.

Rachel considers that for a moment, weighs it against all of the homework she could be doing instead, and decides that her homework can live to see another day. She smiles gratefully at Brittany.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

xx

In the end, Santana is right. Rachel can either let her past haunt her to a slow and quiet death, or she can get over herself and move on. She’s never been one for doing anything quietly.

She shows up to the studio early in the morning with a carrier full of coffee. Cassie is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a bunch of lesson plans spread out in front of her. She looks up at the sound of Rachel’s entry and regards Rachel warily. She looks tired, and it makes Rachel feel worse than she already does.

“I brought coffee,” Rachel says by way of greeting. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I just got a bunch of stuff.”

That gets a bemused smirk out of Cassie, who inspects one of the cups that Rachel sets down in front of her. “Eighty dollars in Starbucks guilt brew must be a new low for you, Schwimmer.”

“Not as low as I sunk yesterday,” Rachel sighs. She sits down across from Cassie and takes a swig of her soy latte to steel herself for what she’s about to say. “I’m sorry for being such a brat. You were trying to offer me something amazing and I just wanted to complain and try to force you into doing something else.”

Cassie watches her silently until Rachel starts to squirm under her gaze.

“Why did you turn down the role that you were offered before you came back here?” she asks finally.

Rachel’s not sure where she’s going with this, but she takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I was scared. I didn’t think I was ready.”

“It’s good to be scared sometimes,” Cassie says, fingers tapping at the side of her cup. “Stops you from thinking you’re invincible. Making a mistake you can’t take back. But fear can also turn you against yourself.”

“You know, ever since I was little, all I ever wanted was to be a star. Not just to believe that I was, but for other people to believe it, too. The first time that I came across someone who wasn’t impressed with my talent, I went crazy. I don’t even remember their name now,” Rachel laughs. “But I remember how it made me feel to meet someone who didn’t believe in me the way that I did. And I remember how much it drove me to be better so that I could prove them wrong. I once told my ex that I needed applause to live. He thought I was being dramatic, but I was serious.”

Cassie chuckles at that, and the sound spurs Rachel to continue talking.

“Half of the friends I have now hated me throughout high school. I made it my mission to win them all over, and I succeeded. I have always just wanted people to like me, but I don’t know when I stopped caring about the people who already did, and started searching for the ones who didn’t. I don’t know why negativity motivates me more than anything else.”

“Hmm,” Cassie muses after a moment. “There’s a lot to unpack there, Schwimmer, and I’m not getting paid enough to be a therapist.” She grins at Rachel’s undignified snort. “You have to find a balance, Rachel. And Christ knows I’m not the person to teach you how to do that. But this is showbusiness. There are people whose whole jobs will be to talk shit about you, regardless of fact or merit, just because people like to hear it. If all you ever do is spend your life trying to change people’s minds, you’re going to wake up one morning and realize that you hate the thing you used to dream about when you were a kid. And that is how you end up swatting an old man’s cell phone across a theater with a baseball bat.”

The self-deprecating smile on Cassie’s face eases the blow of the raw honesty in her words, but only just. 

“Now, can I assume that’s the last tantrum you’re going to throw in here? I have a reputation to maintain for being the biggest bitch in this classroom. I can’t have my TA overshadowing me.”

Rachel laughs at that and nods to indicate that she agrees. “Thank you, Cassie.”

Cassie smiles, and the sight of it is enough to make Rachel’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

“Don’t thank me yet, Schwim,” she says, pushing herself up onto her feet. “I still have plans for revenge. And since you brought all of this coffee, I now have plenty of energy as well. I’m going to make you sweat it out today.”

Rachel groans, but she guesses that things could definitely be worse.

xx

They find a rhythm. Cassie takes the lead, of course, but as Rachel spends more time learning, she becomes more confident. Even the older kids don’t scare her as much after a while, and though Cassie is still the one teaching them, Rachel gets comfortable with critiquing them at a technical level. Cassie even entrusts her with running her classes one day when she’s out sick, which makes Rachel feel like she’s going to puke with nerves.

 _you’ll be fine, schwim,_ Cassie assures her via text. _you know what you’re doing, and if any of those little shitheads gets out of hand, just do your best impression of me_.

It makes Rachel feel a little better that Cassie has faith in her, but she’s not sure she has it in her to tear into someone if they give her attitude. She wishes that she could bring Santana with her, but if she truly needs a bodyguard to handle a small group of her peers, she’s probably not cut out for this anyway. Still, she has Kurt tag along, just for moral support.

The Freshmen class goes really well. Most of them are happy to see her. She’s spent weeks quietly helping and encouraging them, providing a bit of balance to Cassie’s harsh dose of reality methodology. Some of them even look up to her—her reputation precedes her, if just slightly, for having won the Winter Showcase and landed a major role on Broadway as a Freshman. Not to mention the fact that she seems to have Cassie’s respect, a feat that most of these people can’t even begin to fathom.

“You did really great,” Tia tells her on her way out of class that morning. “It was a nice break from the usual torture.”

Rachel beams at that, though she can’t help feeling a little guilty. She knows that most of these kids don’t understand Cassie’s methods, but she hates that they don’t see how good of a teacher she is.

Dance 203 doesn’t go quite as smoothly. Nathan is emboldened by Cassie’s absence and decides to test her by questioning her competence to lead the class. Rachel takes a deep breath and does her best to channel her inner Cassandra July.

“Feel free to take the day off, Nate,” she says with a sugary smile, and he smirks, thinking he’s won. “Although, judging by your off-tempo slip and slide around the studio the other day, I don’t know that you can really afford to miss a class. But hey, I’m sure there’s some kid out there who needs a clown to stumble around like a deer on roller skates at their next birthday party.”

There’s an audible collective intake of breath as the entire class waits for Nathan to retaliate, but he looks so stunned by her takedown that all he can do is stand there and splutter like a fish, face bright red with embarrassment. 

“Okay,” Rachel continues, addressing the rest of the class as if nothing happened, “you guys know the routine. Let’s see if we can get it perfected by the time Miss July returns next week.”

They get to work without further objection. Rachel turns away to gather her composure. She feels a rush of adrenaline at having won what was essentially a pissing contest with an overly-confident twat of a man baby, and she knows it’s not really appropriate, but she kind of understands how Cassie must feel every time she cuts a self-important Broadway brat down to size.

“Damn, girl,” Kurt says with a low whistle. “You been taking lessons from Santana? That was some impressive work.”

Rachel chuckles and tries to shake the nervous energy out of her arms. “Believe it or not, even Santana can’t compete with Cassie’s venomous remarks. I guess some of her snark has rubbed off on me.”

“As long as you keep it in the classroom,” Kurt warns. “Lord knows I don’t need a cranky baby July tearing through the loft.”

Rachel responds with an eye roll before turning her attention back to the class.

When she recounts the story the next day, Cassie stares at her for a moment before breaking out into genuine laughter. Rachel doesn’t know why that sound hits her so hard, but she feels a sense of pride at having been the cause of it.

“I have to say, Schwimmer, I really didn’t think you had it in you. I’m sad I missed it,” Cassie says.

She’s perched on the edge of her desk, casual and looking a bit under the weather, but still captivating as ever.

“I don’t always agree with your methods, but I do see how they have their uses sometimes,” Rachel acquiesces.

“And you thought you wouldn’t learn anything by being my TA,” Cassie teases. 

Rachel rolls her eyes and kind of kicks Cassie’s foot with her own. Cassie grins and Rachel feels lighter than she has in weeks.

xx

They go to Callbacks to decompress. Quinn has finally crawled out of whatever funk she was in due to her inevitable breakup with Puck, and Rachel is happy to see her outside of the apartment for once. Brittany is working on her project to meet a deadline and told them to have fun without her. Blaine and Kurt have been hogging the stage for half the night, and Rachel’s pretty sure some of the other patrons are going to murder them soon. 

She’s been hanging back this evening, taking time to catch up with Quinn and Santana, which is as weird as it’s ever been since Quinn moved to the city. They’ve been sitting closer than is strictly necessary all night while simultaneously looking like they’re trying to avoid all physical contact. At one point, they both reach for a french fry at the same time, and when their hands accidentally touch, they both jerk away like they’ve been burned and refuse to look at each other. Santana quickly excuses herself to the bar after that to get drinks, and only then does Quinn seem to relax slightly.

“I heard you haven’t been auditioning for roles since you got back,” Quinn says casually, as if nothing strange is happening at all.

And that’s true—Rachel has been avoiding auditions like the plague. It’s not that she’s still scared, necessarily, but she is invested in not making the same mistake twice. There’s still a lot that she can learn from being at NYADA, and for once, Rachel is actually content to enjoy her present rather than obsessively looking towards the future.

She tells Quinn all of that, but falters towards the end of her story when she realizes that Quinn isn’t paying attention (isn’t even looking at her, really). Rachel turns around to figure out what the hell could possibly be more captivating than Rachel’s own self-actualization, and finds Santana standing at the bar. 

Blaine and Kurt have just launched into a rendition of Taylor Swift’s _Delicate_ , and Santana must sense Quinn looking at her, because she turns around just as the chorus starts and the two of them lock eyes. Quinn’s gaze sort of softens and Santana’s mouth quirks up in a smile that Rachel has only ever seen directed at Brittany before. 

So, this is super awkward. Rachel has never in her life had to bear witness to something this private, not to mention inappropriate. She knocks all the condiments on the table over and then makes a show of apologizing like she’s some kind of klutz when Quinn’s attention is ripped away from Santana by the noise.

It’s none of her business. It’s none of Rachel’s business, and she definitely shouldn’t say anything, but that fact has never stopped her before, and tonight is no exception.

“Quinn,” she says carefully, but then she doesn’t know how to phrase it anymore delicately than, “is there something going on between you and Santana?”

Quinn’s reaction is sharp and immediate. Her eyes harden and she clenches her jaw.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Rachel,” she snaps.

And she knows. She knows she shouldn’t have asked, but that doesn’t stop her from being hurt by the anger in Quinn’s voice. By the time everyone returns to their table, Quinn has plastered a serene expression on her face, the picture of perfection, as always.

xx

Tia has been taking full advantage of Rachel’s offer to teach her during office hours. She’s a really nice girl; Rachel recognizes the dreamer in Tia’s spirit that’s reflected in her own. For some reason, Rachel feels compelled to protect that, no matter how convinced Cassie may be that it’s only going to hurt the girl in the end. She spends hours over the course of the fall semester teaching Tia the steps and encouraging her to try again when she doesn’t get it right. It’s paying off—Tia is never going to be the next Pavlova (or even Hough, for that matter), but she is getting better each time Rachel sees her. The best part is that, as her dancing improves, so does her confidence.

“I really don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done,” Tia tells her one afternoon. They’re getting closer to midterms, and Rachel is confident that Tia will pass without any issue.

“Oh, I’m happy to help,” Rachel says kindly.

“I wish you could be our teacher. You’re just so much _nicer_ than Miss July. I feel like I’ve learned more from you in a few hours than I’ll ever learn from her. All she ever does is yell.”

Rachel freezes at that, because honestly, these words could have come straight from her own mouth not more than two years ago. But time and reflection have given her perspective. And she gets it. She understands why some people can’t see past the vitriol to find the lessons that Cassie has to teach them. She just knows that there’s more than meets the eye to Cassie’s methods.

“Listen,” Rachel sighs, and sits next to Tia while the girl laces up her shoes. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but there is a method to Cassie’s madness. I was in your position my Freshman year. Cassie and I used to scream at each other practically every class. I thought she was careless and insane. But the more she yelled, the harder I worked. And by the end of the semester, I realized that she had made me a better dancer than I could have ever hoped to be otherwise.”

Tia’s looking at her like she can’t really believe a word of what Rachel’s saying. Sometimes, Rachel can’t believe it either. When she looks at how far they’ve come, it’s hard to understand how they ever hated each other in the first place. Maybe they never truly did.

“I owe a lot to Cassie. She taught me that nothing is ever given freely. Everything has to be earned. If you want her to stop yelling, you have to give her a reason to shut up. And she will. If you prove that you’re willing to work for it, you’ll earn her respect. She’s actually pretty incredible if you can stick it out.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Tia says skeptically, and Rachel chuckles. “I’ll see you in class. Thanks again!”

Rachel waves her off. She feels eyes boring into the back of her head, and when she glances in the mirror, she finds Cassie staring at her from several feet away. She’s talking to another student, or she’s supposed to be, anyway, but Rachel suspects that she’s been eavesdropping the whole time. She wonders for a moment if Cassie is going to be upset with her, but she doesn’t look angry. She looks...conflicted, maybe. But they’re in no position to discuss right now, and Cassie is aware of that. She gives Rachel the slightest of nods—acknowledgement for her kind words—and Rachel smiles shyly in response and looks away.

xx

They’re at the theatre. The show’s about to start, but Rachel’s not sure what it’s called. Kurt, Santana, and Artie are seated next to her. There are others outside—Quinn and Brittany, maybe Sam, too. Rachel knows they’re here, but they’re late for the show, and in the next moment, they slip from her mind. Artie has a lap full of snacks, and they have so much candy between them that they have to store it in the cup holders and seats around them. 

“You want some?” Artie asks her, holding up a pack of Twizzlers. 

Rachel nods and takes a Twizzler, then panics when she realizes that she doesn’t have any money. Someone sits down beside her, and Rachel looks over to see who it is. 

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Cassie says, and then she smiles and Rachel feels her tension ease.

“With Quinn and the others?” she asks.

Cassie nods. “They’re going to see a different show.”

“Of course they are. Santana’s going to miss Quinn,” Rachel says.

“Brittany will figure it out for them,” Cassie assures her. When she says it, Rachel knows she’s right. Brittany always knows the answers to hard questions.

She suddenly remembers that she’s supposed to be eating a Twizzler, but when she looks down, it’s not in her hand. She must have dropped it, but it’s nowhere around her. Artie and all of the snacks have disappeared, too, which is disappointing. Rachel really wants candy.

“You’re not paying attention,” Cassie says, and Rachel looks up to see what she’s missing, but the show hasn’t even started yet.

Cassie slips her hand into Rachel’s, laces their fingers together. It’s warm, and the warmth spreads up her arm and overtakes the rest of her body. Everything goes quiet and dark. Rachel squeezes Cassie’s hand, and Cassie’s answering grin makes her stomach twist in the best way.

“I didn’t know,” Rachel says.

When she looks around, they’re at NYADA. They’ve been here for hours. She doesn’t even remember the theatre. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to leave Cassie’s side. It’s nice here. Safe. Rachel feels like she’s never known anything but this.

There’s a knock at the door. They’re still at NYADA, but it’s also Rachel’s apartment. Rachel gets up to open the door. There’s no one there, and when she turns back around, Cassie is gone. It’s just Britney Spears reading a book on her couch.

“Okay,” Rachel says, irritated and rolling her eyes.

She snaps awake. It takes several long moments for Rachel to get her bearings in the dark room. Her breath is shallow and she realizes she’s sweating. The sheets are tangled around her like vines. The details of the dream shift around in her mind, vivid and weird, but quickly slipping away. She still feels warm and squishy, but she can’t quite figure out why. Then she remembers Cassie, remembers the comfort and vibrancy of her touch.

“Shit,” Rachel breathes, and scrubs at her face with her hands. It’s the weirdest dream she’s ever had, but the feeling it gave her is real and it followed her into the waking world.

So when she thinks of Cassie now, it makes her skin tingle. And Rachel knows without a doubt what that means, but she doesn’t know what it means for _them_.

When she sees Cassie next, nothing has changed other than Rachel’s own perception. But Rachel feels everything way too much, and this revelation is the equivalent of a bomb dropped right on top of her emotions. It feels like she’ll never dig her way out of the debris. Cassie is the same and so are their interactions, but now whenever Cassie lays a hand on Rachel’s arm or smirks at her across the studio with some shared secret or asks Rachel to help her stretch, Rachel feels the flutter of a full-blown crush in her stomach. It’s weird, but she’s trying not to recreate the disaster that was her brief crush on Mr. Schue, so she swallows it down and hopes it doesn’t all come bubbling back up at once.

xx

Rachel shows up fifteen minutes late to lesson planning on a Saturday. This is a rare occurrence—so rare that it’s never actually happened before—but she got caught up talking to her dad on the phone and ended up losing track of time. She’s fully prepared to offer Cassie a full and complete timeline of her day as an explanation for her tardiness when she enters the studio, but the words kind of die on her lips.

Cassie is standing in the mirror, and it looks like she may have been stretching at one point, but now she’s just standing still with her one arm kind of hovering over her shoulder. She’s staring into the mirror, but it’s clear by the vacancy in her gaze that she’s not actually looking at anything. Whatever she’s thinking about, it’s far away from this place.

“Cassie?”

The room is eerily silent, and Rachel’s voice sounds loud enough to shatter glass in the stillness of it all. Cassie startles and turns to see who’s asking for her.

“Schwimmer,” she says, and her voice cracks with disuse. “What’s up?”

“We were supposed to be meeting today,” Rachel explains hesitantly.

Cassie looks surprised by that. She glances down at her watch and sighs. “I guess so. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do it today. We can catch up on Monday morning.”

She turns back to the mirror and resumes her stretches. Rachel just stands there and watches. This conversation has put her completely off balance. She’s pretty sure she’s just been dismissed, which (aside from the questionable manners) is a bit concerning. She’s witnessed quite a few of Cassie’s moods over the time that they’ve known each other, but this is new and a little scary.

“Is...everything okay?” Rachel asks, and then wonders if she’s made a mistake. Cassie has been good to her this year, but she still remembers the days when her reactions were as unpredictable as the sea in a storm. But Cassie just shoots her a tired, joyless smile through the mirror.

“Sure, Schwim. I’m fine,” she says, which is possibly the worst lie that Rachel has ever heard.

Rachel knows that she should probably leave. Of course, her self-preservation instincts are basically non-existent, so she lingers and takes a breath to gather up some courage before she presses ahead.

“You know, I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything,” she says, and Cassie’s expression is looking a little dangerous in the mirror, so Rachel hurries to keep talking. “You’ve taught me so much, and I know it’s your job, but I guess I’d like to think that maybe we’re friends, too.”

“Trust me, Rachel,” Cassie says with an ugly smirk, “you don’t want to be my friend. You see how I treat a classroom full of kids I’ve just met. Imagine what I can do to the people that actually care about me.”

“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for,” Rachel argues.

“I wouldn’t stick around to find out, if I were you,” Cassie replies. 

And that’s painful, to say the least. Regardless of how Rachel feels about Cassie romantically, it’s exhausting to always be the one offering friendship only to have it thrown back in her face time and time again. She doesn’t feel like she has the energy to keep trying, only to be kicked away.

“I really don’t want to fight with you,” she says tiredly. “I’m hoping that we’re past that by now. And if you don’t want my help or my friendship, that’s okay. But you know where I’ll be if you change your mind. See you on Monday.”

She turns to leave then, and as she does, she thinks she catches something like regret on Cassie’s face, but she doesn’t turn back to see if she’s right.

xx

Rachel gets a text from Cassie the next day that’s just a time and an address. The address is for a cafe halfway between Bushwick and SoHo. She considers replying that she already has plans for about half a second, but then her curiosity immediately gets the better of her. She doesn’t have anything to do that’s more important than meeting with Cassie outside of school, as sad and desperate as that may be.

Cassie’s wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and an oversized NYADA hoodie, and if she’s trying to kill Rachel on sight, it’s working. Rachel is probably just slightly overdressed for this occasion, and even then she still feels like she looks like a leper next to Cassie. But Cassie’s mouth quirks up in a grin as soon as they lock eyes, and Rachel feels a little thrill at knowing that the most attractive person in this cafe by far is happy to see her.

“I want you to know that I fucking hate Brooklyn,” Cassie says in lieu of a proper greeting, and Rachel can’t stop the undignified snort that comes out of her mouth.

“Well, thank you for gracing those of us who live in the slums with your presence,” she replies, and takes a seat across from Cassie.

“Soy latte, right?” Cassie asks.

It’s then that Rachel notices that there’s already a coffee waiting for her. Rachel already knows that she swoons over the dumbest shit, but the fact that Cassie knows her order makes her heart twist violently in her chest. She can’t really speak at the moment, so she nods dumbly and tries to tamp down the idiotic smile that she knows is already stretching across her face.

“Not that I don’t appreciate a good coffee,” Rachel says after a minute, “but what are we doing here?”

“Just needed a break from the studio,” Cassie answers vaguely. She looks cagey and uncomfortable, like there’s something in her chest that she just can’t bring herself to admit to. And it’s not an apology even by a longshot, but it is a peace offering, and Rachel can appreciate that.

So Rachel makes it easy on her and launches into a story about how their drama professor had them do an exercise in gender bending the other day, which led to Kurt portraying the most grotesquely extra version of Ophelia that anyone has ever seen. Cassie laughs and says she’s not surprised, but it’s a shame that he dances like a fat puppy that hasn’t figured out how its legs work yet. Rachel recounts the time that Santana made a similar comment at McKinley just after Kurt tried to convince her not to marry Brittany, and the conversation flows pretty seamlessly from there.

Cassie is not nearly as prickly and anti-social as she likes to pretend. Once she gets started talking, there’s really no stopping her. She tells countless stories of ill-fated students who thought they would get the better of her and quickly found themselves out of their depth. Rachel watches her with stars in her eyes and imagines for a moment what it would be like if her leg brushed up against Cassie’s, or her fingers strayed just a little too close to Cassie’s hand resting on the table top. 

She doesn’t really have it in her, though. This is a grown woman who also happens to be her teacher, not some horny high school boy. She’s way out of her league with this, especially when she feels like they’re finally having some sort of breakthrough. This casual off-campus comradery will have to be good enough for now.

“Do you like it?” Rachel asks, and Cassie raises an eyebrow for clarification. “Being a teacher. I know it’s not what you wanted, even though you’re so good at it. But do you like it?”

Cassie sighs and looks like she’s contemplating whether or not she even wants to answer that question. Eventually, she shrugs and smiles sadly.

“I guess I do. I like helping kids figure out if they’re really cut out for this life before they go out and let it eat them alive. There’s something to be said for being a cautionary tale, I guess.”

“Cassie,” Rachel says, and she can’t help herself—she reaches out to cover Cassie’s hand with her own, “you’re not just some cautionary tale. You’re an inspiration. The students you teach that understand what you’re telling them and grow stronger and go on to do great things take a piece of you with them wherever they go. I know I did, and I always will. You think your legacy is some decade-old embarrassment, but I think it’s a lot bigger and more incredible than you’ll ever really know.”

There’s a solid ten seconds where Rachel’s not sure if maybe she crossed a line she shouldn’t have, when Cassie just stares at her inscruitibly while she processes Rachel’s impassioned little speech. But then she exhales shakily, squeezes Rachel’s hand with a grateful little smile and glassy eyes, and Rachel feels like she might explode from the pressure of how much she likes this woman.

“God,” Cassie says with a small laugh, and takes a sip of her coffee to occupy herself while she regains her composure. “Have I ever told you that you’re the single most dramatic person I’ve ever met? And that’s really saying something, Schwimmer.”

“Shut up,” Rachel grins. “You like it.”

It’s supposed to be a lighthearted tease, but then Cassie levels her with this look that’s just...so serious and weighted, like she’s trying to tell Rachel something important. But Rachel can’t quite catch the signal, and she’s too caught up in the way that the dark ring of Cassie’s eyeliner makes her eyes stand out, stark clear and mossy green. It’s a slip that she’ll regret later, when she closes her eyes and sees that color reflected against the backs of their lids, and realizes she’s falling faster than she can actually keep up with.

xx

Santana comes to visit. They sit out on the fire escape, like they used to do when they lived together, and Santana smokes a cigarette. Rachel squawks out a protest, but Santana rolls her eyes and flips her off. She’s quiet and moody while Rachel chats with her. Rachel tries to ignore it for a while—Santana can be testy when pressed for information before she’s ready—but eventually she has to say something.

“Santana...you know you can tell me anything right?” Rachel says after she catches her friend staring out at the skyline.

Santana glances back at her, and she looks so pained that Rachel reaches out to rest a hand on her knee. Rachel sees Santana’s jaw working like she’s trying to say something, but the words won’t come out.

“Does it have something to do with Quinn?” Rachel asks gently.

Santana squeezes her eyes shut, inhaling shakily. A tear falls from her eyelashes. “I have feelings for her,” she whispers.

And well...water is wet. This comes as exactly no surprise to Rachel, who has been watching the tensions mount between the two of them for months now. But hearing it out loud is still harder than Rachel was expecting. She can hear the anguish in Santana’s voice and knows that this is extremely difficult for her.

“What about Brittany?” Rachel asks. She’s not judging, but it’s the obvious question, and she’s trying to help Santana talk this through.

“She’s my soulmate,” Santana says with a helpless shrug. “I love her more each day. And I’ve tried to push it all down, but I just can’t do it anymore.” Her face crumples and she sobs quietly. “I’m such an idiot. We just got married. I promised her the world and I’m already screwing it up.”

“Santana,” Rachel says sympathetically, wrapping her up in a hug. “You’re not screwing it up, okay? You don’t get to choose how you feel, but you do get to choose how you act, and you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“It feels like I have,” Santana sniffs. “I’ve, uh, been doing some reading about polyamory.”

“You mean like Mormonism?” Rachel frowns.

Santana scoffs. “No, you weirdo. That’s polygamy. Polyamory is like...when you can have more than one relationship. But everyone is okay with it.”

Rachel’s having trouble wrapping her head around that concept. She’s always been a jealous person, clutching at her significant other like a prize kitten who might slip away to play at any second. Which is obviously not healthy, and she’s been working on it, but the idea of having multiple partners sounds messy and complicated to her. Still, Santana is her friend and she wants to be supportive.

“Have you talked to Brittany about this?” Rachel asks.

“No,” Santana says, shaking her head. “I can’t. She’s going to think I’m a cheating asshole trying to weasel my way into Quinn’s pants without feeling guilty about it.”

She suddenly remembers the dream she had not long ago, and Cassie’s cryptic message. Not that Cassie would know anything about Brittany and Santana, but Rachel does, and her subconscious is clearly confident in their ability to work it out.

“Brittany’s a lot stronger and wiser than most people give her credit for,” Rachel assures her. “You should know that better than anyone. She loves you. Just talk to her.”

Santana sighs and leans her head on Rachel’s shoulder. “When did my love life become more complicated than yours?”

Rachel laughs and bumps into Santana’s side. She thinks about just how complicated her feelings for Cassie are, but she’s not ready to talk about that yet. “I think falling in love with two blonde, bisexual cheerleaders definitely tipped the scales for you.”

“Ugh,” Santana says, and lights up another cigarette. She exhales the first puff of smoke and looks at Rachel with an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Rachel.”

xx

“Do you know anything about polyamory?”

Cassie looks up from the box of CDs she’s flicking through, eyebrow raised inquisitively. Rachel’s supposed to be helping her lesson plan, but she’s got a lot on her mind worrying about how Santana and Brittany and Quinn are doing. Not to mention the fact that it’s a little distracting being in the close quarters of Cassie’s office like this, and Rachel’s having a hard time concentrating. 

“Are you trying to tell me something about your love life, Schwimmer?”

“Me? N-no,” Rachel blushes. “It’s my friend Santana.”

“The salty, vulgar Latina with a huge rack and a mouth full of hornets to rival my own?” Cassie asks. “I saw her tearing into Brody in my dance studio one day after a weirdly homoerotic song and dance number.”

“Okay, I’m going to come back to that in a minute,” Rachel says with a frown. “But yes, that Santana. She recently married her high school sweetheart, Brittany, and they moved in together. But their other friend, Quinn, also moved in with them. Quinn and Santana have always had a tumultuous relationship, and apparently they slept together when they were both single. So now that they’re all living together, there’s this sexual tension between Quinn and Santana and Santana’s developed actual feelings for Quinn, but of course she still loves Brittany.”

Cassie stares at her for a moment while that sinks in, and then she shakes her head and stacks up a pile of CDs.

“There’s a lot to unpack there,” she says. “I mean, I’m not sure I even have it in me to be with one person, let alone multiple people.”

Those words feel like heartburn in Rachel’s chest. She tries not to look too wounded, but she’s never been that great at schooling her expressions. Thankfully, Cassie has turned to look at her notes, so she misses whatever look is on Rachel’s face.

“Some people have a lot of love to give, though,” Cassie continues. “I hope it works out for them.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agrees quietly. “Me, too.”

xx

It’s almost time for winter break. When Rachel thinks back on it, she can hardly believe it’s already been so long. She’s come a long way, both in her attitude and her performance. She’s acing her Dance 201 class, which she took her midterm for at the beginning of the week, and she really enjoys being a TA, too. Tension notwithstanding, her relationship with Cassie has developed immensely as well. Nothing is ever perfect, but Rachel can honestly say that she’s pretty happy right now.

She could definitely use a break, though. They’ve been grading midterms for hours now at the desk in the studio. Rachel’s starting to get a cramp in her ass, which she didn’t even know was possible. She stands up to stretch and grab a drink of water, and ends up walking over to the stereo where Cassie keeps all of her CDs. Rachel picks up one of the cases, plastic cracked and worn, and smiles as she looks over the track listing.

As the first notes of Mariah Carey’s _Fantasy_ filter through the speakers, Cassie looks up from the paper she’s grading with a bemused smirk.

“What are you doing, Schwimmer?” she asks.

But Rachel doesn’t answer. Instead, she begins singing along with the track, matching Mariah note for note as she dances around the room. Cassie’s eyes follow her every move, and it’s intoxicating to have her undivided attention like this. It gives her a newfound energy as she bounces over to the desk and pulls Cassie to her feet.

“Dance with me,” she implores, and after not much goading at all, Cassie obliges.

It never ceases to amaze Rachel just how incredible Cassie is. Her technique is flawless, without question, but when she dances like this, carefree and just for the fun of it, the sight of her is breathtaking. They twirl around the studio as Rachel continues to sing at the top of her lungs, and Cassie laughs like she’s twenty years old again, with not a care in the world to bother her. It reminds Rachel of the time that Cassie sang _Uptight_ to her just before her callback—the pure joy of that moment was something that she thought could never be matched, but experiencing this with Cassie when it’s just the two of them is even better.

Cassie grabs Rachel by the waist and spins them around the room at whirlwind speeds until Rachel is dizzy and breathless. She turns Rachel out and then spins her back in, and their bodies collide like freight trains. Cassie catches her, steadies her, and Rachel finds herself staring up into Cassie’s sparkling eyes. Her breath is heavy from running around the room, and for a moment it feels like the whole world stills as they look at one another.

Rachel is already up on her toes, halfway to Cassie’s mouth before she even realizes what she’s doing. Cassie seems paralyzed, and for a moment, Rachel thinks she sees the same desire that she has for Cassie reflected in Cassie’s eyes. The song comes to an end. Cassie sucks in a sharp breath and backs away.

“Rachel,” she murmurs, face set in a deep frown, and shakes her head.

The magic of the moment is broken. Rachel feels her confidence shatter as her chest tightens painfully. She thinks that maybe she should say something, but she’s not sure what there is to say. She just tried to kiss Cassie (her teacher; her friend; the woman she has feelings for) and essentially got shot down like a fat Christmas goose. The tears start to prick at the back of her eyes and Rachel turns away before they can fall, runs out of the studio and as far away as she can possibly get before she collapses against a wall and allows herself to cry.

xx

The good news is that winter break means no school. No TAing. No dance class. No studio. No Cassie.

The bad news is that her pride has been severely wounded at best. At worst, her heart has been broken. Rachel sulks in her room for days, and finally confesses her feelings to Kurt, who—after a brief minute of losing his eyebrows to his hairline in shock—sends Blaine into gay best friend crisis mode and has him come equipped with more vegan ice cream and DVDs than the three of them can possibly consume in a lifetime.

She feels a little better after that, though still somewhat mortified and at a loss for what to do once school resumes. She decides to text Cassie and offer to resign as her TA. To Rachel’s surprise, Cassie responds that Rachel’s been having a positive impact on class performance based on midterm grades, and she’d really like Rachel to stay on. It takes an extremely detailed pro/con list before Rachel finally decides that she can suck it up and be an adult about this. 

New Year’s Eve rolls around before she even knows it. Blaine and Kurt have decided to throw a big party, and it’s kind of nice to have all of these people filling up the space in the loft for once. Sam comes up to visit with his new girlfriend in tow—a pretty girl who turns out to be the older sister of one of the guys on his football team. It’s good seeing him again. His hugs are just as reassuring as they ever were and his cologne makes her think of home.

Santana, Brittany, and Quinn are all in attendance. Rachel doesn’t get a chance to ask how things are going between the three of them, but a few drinks in, Quinn and Santana are pretty blatantly flirting, practically on top of one another in the kitchen. Brittany doesn’t seem too concerned. She glances at them a few times while she chats with people at the party, but her mood doesn’t falter. 

“I know this is none of our business,” Kurt mutters at one point, “but what in the hell is going on with the Unholy Trinity?”

Rachel really doesn’t have an answer for him, but it turns out that she doesn’t need to. While Santana is filling up their cups at the punch bowl, Brittany blows past her and stalks right up to Quinn, backs her up against the counter like a cat cornering it’s prey. Quinn looks caught off guard, but she’s a little drunk and not moving very fast. Brittany towers over her, hand cupping Quinn’s face, and then she’s kissing Quinn in a way that Rachel can only hope to be kissed one day; all gentle passion and confidence that only Brittany ever seems to be able to pull off.

Santana’s jaw drops, and so does the ladle she’s holding. Kurt literally gasps at Rachel’s side. When Brittany finally pulls away, it takes Quinn several seconds to recover her senses, and several more while she looks really hard at Brittany. But then Brittany smiles, wide and happy, and Quinn matches it with one of her own and stretches up to kiss her again.

“Uh, somebody better be including Auntie Tana in this,” Santana protests loudly.

Quinn and Brittany fall into a fit of laughter, and then the three of them take turns making out for so long that Rachel finally has to turn away. She’s not even close to being in whatever state one has to be in to watch a lesbian threesome go down in her kitchen.

“Looks like they worked it out,” someone says behind her.

Rachel spins around so fast that she has to stop herself from falling over. But there Cassie is, looking like a goddamn model in her apartment on New Years, steadying Rachel with a hand on her arm.

“Cassie,” Rachel breathes, and Christ, she’s too drunk for this. “What are you doing here?”

“Your Sparkly roommate invited me,” Cassie explains. “And, as sad as it sounds, I didn’t have anything better to do tonight. I usually go visit my sister and her family upstate, but they decided to travel for the holidays this year.”

There’s so much information there and Rachel doesn’t have the capacity to process it all when she’s still trying to reconcile the fact that Cassie is in her living room.

“You look incredible,” she blurts out, and Cassie grins a little.

“Thanks, Schwim. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

There’s too much that Rachel wants to say right now: she’s sorry for trying to kiss Cassie, but she isn’t because she wants to do it again. She feels like Cassie might let her, should let her, but maybe it’s just the alcohol making her imagine that look in Cassie’s eye. Distantly, she registers that the people around her have begun counting down to midnight. Rachel licks her lips and Cassie’s eyes follow her tongue. The clock hits zero and everyone around them cheers. The moment passes and neither of them act.

“Happy New Year, Rachel,” Cassie says.

“Happy New Year,” Rachel replies automatically.

Someone slings an arm around Rachel’s shoulders—Brittany, of course—and Rachel is forced to look away from Cassie as she tries not to lose her balance.

“Rachel!” Brittany says happily. “I already kissed two hot girls at midnight. I can kiss you, too, if you want.”

Honestly, Rachel considers it for a second. Brittany looks like an incredible kisser. But there’s only one person here that Rachel is interested in kissing, and it seems like it’s not in the cards for her tonight.

Cassie laughs at Brittany’s offer, and she looks genuinely amused. But there’s something else there, too; a tightness in her smile. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking on her part, but Rachel’s pretty sure she’s seen what jealousy looks like enough times to know that she’s not just imagining it. So maybe there’s hope for them yet.

xx

So. The tension in the studio is blatantly obvious and super uncomfortable. They both put on a show of not noticing. They pretend that nothing has changed. But it has, of course, because they’re both aware of this thing that exists between them and they move around it like a physical presence in the room. Cassie is noticeably cautious about how close she gets to Rachel at any given moment. The casual touches they once shared are basically non-existent now. Even when she’s correcting Rachel’s posture, Cassie will use spoken direction more often than her hands. Rachel keeps her distance—the last thing she wants is to push too hard. But she misses the warmth of Cassie’s presence, strong and reassuring and always just within her orbit.

Classes restart for the new semester and Cassie’s syllabus puts the Freshmen in ballroom mode for the new year. It’s probably the worst possible time for this. Rachel missed this part of her Freshman year to be on Broadway, so she’s going in almost completely blind, and Cassie can barely look at her some days, let alone teach her a bunch of steps that require them to be in hold. It’s frustrating because Cassie brought Rachel on as a TA to help her learn more and now it feels like the only thing Cassie’s teaching her is the top five worst ways to pretend that you don’t have feelings for someone you work closely with.

They prepare to teach their students the Foxtrot one afternoon, and Rachel doesn’t know the first thing about this dance, so she finally asks Cassie to come over and show her. Cassie actually hesitates for a minute, like she’s contemplating whether or not she’s going to do her job, and Rachel has to suppress an eye roll because it’s not as if she’s going to attack if Cassie gets within six inches of her. But duty apparently gets the better of Cassie, who steps into Rachel’s space and brings her into a hold.

“I’ll count us in,” Cassie says, settling her hand on Rachel’s waist.

The sudden closeness is not something that Rachel was prepared for after so much avoidance, despite her complaints. The smell of Cassie’s perfume is strong and it clouds Rachel’s senses as effectively as a blow to the head. Cassie’s eyes are so bright that Rachel finds it impossible to look away. Cassie counts out the steps as she begins to move. It takes Rachel a few moments to get the hang of it, but once she understands how to move her feet, they sweep around the room pretty effortlessly. It’s not as if the Foxtrot is the most engaging dance in the world, but it’s nice to be close like this.

Judging by the look on Cassie’s face, she agrees. Her eyes haven’t left Rachel’s once since they started, and her fingers slip just a little lower down Rachel’s back as she pulls Rachel even closer against her. Rachel knows she’s not imagining this. Whatever walls Cassie wants to throw up when they’re not in close quarters are completely meaningless when it’s clear that she’s just as lost in this feeling as Rachel is.

After a few more steps, Cassie finally brings them to a stop. She looks over Rachel’s shoulder, and maybe it’s the look in her own eyes that scares her, because she backs away suddenly as if she’s been burned. Rachel huffs loudly, immediately annoyed. She’s tired of being treated like something dangerous. 

“What, Schwimmer?” Cassie asks, jaw tight with tension.

Rachel shakes her head. She knows that she should really let this go, but she’s so full of frustration that there’s no stopping her now. “Nothing. It’s just...you can touch me, you know. The world's not going to end.”

“I’m just trying to avoid any confusion,” Cassie explains reluctantly.

“Well it’s a little late for that,” Rachel snaps, and Cassie eyes her warily. “It’s hard to avoid confusion when I can see how conflicted you are. I like you, Cassie. And you like me, too. I can see how hard it is for you to stay away. I don’t even know why you’re trying so hard. I don’t want you to.”

“Rachel,” Cassie warns. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

And that assumption—that Rachel is too young or stupid or naïve to understand what she wants, let alone ask for it—is enough to set her off.

“What are you so scared of?” Rachel shouts. “What do you have to lose?”

“It’s not about what I have to lose,” Cassie growls angrily. “Think about what it would look like for you—the next young rising star of Broadway—to be attached to its greatest disappointment. What do you think that’ll do for your career, Rachel? How big of an anchor do you want tied to your waist?”

Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Come on, Cassie. Do you honestly think I would ever let anyone try to dictate who I date? I think I’ve proven plenty of times that my talent and determination speaks for itself. Any casting director who’s that concerned with who I have in my bedroom doesn’t deserve me to begin with. And I _certainly_ don’t appreciate you trying to use my career as a bargaining chip to justify your own fear.”

Cassie doesn’t respond. Her jaw is shut tight and her face reads pure outrage, but Rachel knows she has the upper hand here. She knows she’s right about this and she isn’t backing down. 

“You know, I think you’re just afraid that you might actually be happy for once,” Rachel says icily. “I mean, how can you skulk around here and sell the story of a woman hardened by broken dreams if you actually have some joy in your life?”

Maybe she’s gone too far. The look on Cassie’s face is reminiscent of the day that Rachel stood in front of a room full of dancers and dared to call Cassie a YouTube joke. But this isn’t about pride or ego anymore. This is about hearts. And Rachel has never once compromised on love. If Cassie wants to walk away now, that’s on her.

Of course, Cassie being Cassie, that’s exactly what she does.

xx

Rachel never thought she’d see the day when her first place of solace and comfort would be Santana, Brittany, and Quinn’s apartment, but there’s really no place else she’d rather be right now. Brittany still makes the best hot chocolate, and still listens intently when Rachel pours her heart out about Cassie.

Santana’s eyes are narrowed the entire time Rachel speaks, almost like she can’t even understand the words coming out of Rachel’s mouth.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Berry?” she asks when Rachel’s finished, completely outraged by the revelation of Rachel’s story. “All this time Britt and I have been out here waving the lady-lover flag all by ourselves while you’ve been parading around like some paragon of heterosexuality, sucking faces with every mildly attractive bland white boy that crosses your path and yodeling about finding your prince charming as we were all forced to sit back and suffer the grossness of your toxic ass relationships, and now here you are crying about your unrequited love affair with the hottest piece of ass to ever walk the halls of NYADA like you’ve been a member of the Muff Muncher’s club the whole time, and I’m just supposed to accept this information without comment?”

In retrospect, Rachel thinks she probably should have seen this coming. Santana does not process news well. Still, this really isn’t the time.

“Santana, aside from the fact that my sexual orientation is really none of your business, it’s not my fault that you assumed that I was straight just because you’ve only seen me date guys,” Rachel says.

“I knew there was something going on between you two repressed bitches in high school,” Santana says, glancing between Rachel and Quinn while she shakes her head, as if she’s already got the entire sordid backstory of their non-existent love affair playing in her mind.

“Down, Santana,” Quinn replies with an unaffected roll of her eyes. “This isn’t about you right now.” Santana is clearly displeased, but she does quiet down finally. “Look, Rachel, I know that I haven’t always been a prime shining example for how to have a successful love life. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But I always admired that you were never afraid to go after whatever or whoever you wanted.” She gestures vaguely to Brittany and Santana behind her. “This isn’t what I ever imagined for myself when I was a kid, but I know that it’s good. I’ve never felt more at ease with myself. If you have a chance at something like that, you can’t let it slip away.”

Brittany wraps her arms around Quinn from behind, resting her head on Quinn’s shoulder. Quinn smiles at the contact, while Santana looks completely smitten at the sight of them.

“If she’s scared, you have to show her it’s okay,” Brittany says simply. “Learn how to speak her language.”

xx

Brittany’s right, of course. If Rachel truly wants to make this work, she has to learn to speak Cassie’s language. And Cassie’s language is dance.

“I have an idea for a lesson,” Rachel says. Cassie looks immediately skeptical. And for good reason. Rachel wants to do a tango.

“Really, Schwimmer?” Cassie asks darkly.

Rachel sighs. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. But just trust me, okay? Please.”

Cassie is still wary, but she finally huffs out a breath and nods. Rachel runs over to the sound system and hooks up her phone. She trots back over and takes Cassie by the hands just as Selena Gomez’s _Bad Liar_ starts playing. Cassie shoots her a dirty look, but Rachel smiles encouragingly. 

“Trust me,” she repeats, and the two of them enter a hold.

Once the dance begins, it only takes a few seconds for them to find their rhythm together. Cassie’s cautious composure slips away step by step as they wind their way around the room. The song is suggestive on its own, and it takes everything in Rachel’s power not to sing along with it, but she thinks that might be a little too much. She doesn’t have to sing; she just has to dance, and keep her gaze locked on her partner.

Cassie bends Rachel backwards into a dip and Rachel’s hair brushes the floor while their lower bodies press closer. When she straightens, Cassie’s eyes are dark and Rachel feels something hot and heavy settle low in her stomach. She’s seen bits and pieces of Cassie’s desire before, but always restrained. Nothing like this unfiltered want. Rachel trails her fingers down Cassie’s side, and Cassie’s sharp intake of breath causes Rachel’s body to respond with a shiver. There’s something indescribably addicting about being able to affect Cassie this way. She presses against Cassie’s chest as the music comes to an end and Cassie pulls her in further by her hips.

They stay like that for several seconds, faces too close and bodies even closer. Everywhere that Rachel’s body meets Cassie’s feels electric. She can hear their breath in the stillness of the studio, and she knows they’re at the absolute breaking point.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Rachel implores quietly. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me and I’ll drop it and leave you alone.”

She waits for Cassie to turn her down, to push her away and break her heart. She waits for the worst, but when it’s clear that the worst is never going to come, Rachel takes that as her cue to forge ahead. She pushes Cassie backwards, gently, until she’s pressed between Rachel and the wall. Cassie offers no resistance, but she does raise an eyebrow.

“You know, Schwimmer, I’m usually the one who takes control in this classroom,” she murmurs.

“Shut up,” Rachel mutters softly, resting her hand against Cassie’s cheek. “Can you just…”

She presses their lips together, soft at first, but then she catches the scent of Cassie’s shampoo and Cassie’s hand settles at the small of Rachel’s back, and something ignites in her belly. She tries to convey every ounce of longing she’s felt over the past few months as she deepens the kiss, hot and slow and laced with anticipation. Her teeth scrape gently against Cassie’s bottom lip, and the sound that Cassie makes in the back of her throat sends a harsh jolt running through Rachel’s veins.

Cassie flips them around so suddenly that it knocks the breath from Rachel’s lungs. She gasps quietly and barely has time to register the wild look in Cassie’s eyes before Cassie threads her fingers through Rachel’s hair and absolutely devours her. Rachel has never been kissed like this before—like her whole body might melt out from underneath her if she’s not careful. Apparently all of the weeks of tension and avoidance and pretending not to glance at each other across the room were worth it. Now that Cassie has been unleashed, Rachel’s sure she will be consumed entirely, and she’s completely okay with it.

“Rachel,” Cassie breathes, ripping her mouth away suddenly, “we need to leave.”

It takes a second for Rachel to register the implications of that. When she does, she nods. Cassie takes her by the hand and they quickly vacate the studio.

xx

Cassie’s apartment is nice. Like casually wealthy New York socialite nice. Not that Rachel really gets to see much of it. Cassie has her in bed within two minutes of entering the loft, with only a brief pause to make out against the door.

Rachel has never had sex with a woman before, but it’s not that hard. Especially when Cassie takes the lead, hands running over Rachel’s body with a reverence that makes her skin feel like it’s on fire. Her hair creates a veil around them as she curls long fingers inside of Rachel, lips grazing Rachel’s jaw as Rachel arches and gasps and comes apart under her.

When it’s over, Cassie brushes the hair back from Rachel’s brow, fingers tracing the lines of Rachel’s face as she gazes down softly. Rachel, who has always been starved for touch, revels in the comfort of Cassie’s affection, the absolute adoration in Cassie’s eyes. She curls her fingers around the back of Cassie’s neck and pulls her down for a kiss, sighing when they part.

“That was…” She doesn’t really have a word to describe it, though, so she just shakes her head and Cassie chuckles. “You don’t regret it, right?”

“No,” Cassie says immediately, and relief floods Rachel’s chest like a balm. “Rachel, you’re incredible. I’ve always known that. And I knew that if I let myself get too close to you, I wouldn’t be able to hold anything back.”

“Why would you want to?” Rachel asks. She’s never once tried to hold back her feelings—she’s not sure she could if she tried.

Cassie’s face is pained. “Do you know how terrifying it is to have feelings for your student who’s fifteen years younger than you? It’s not exactly a foundation built to last.”

That’s a little bit like a sucker punch, and Rachel has to take a few seconds to recover before she can respond. She’s never really considered what this might look like from Cassie’s point of view—like maybe Rachel’s just using her, or even if it’s real, how will they last when they’re at such different places in their lives and careers?

“Cassie,” Rachel starts, “I know this is a little unconventional, but it feels right. Like that feeling of calm you get just before you step out onto a stage. Natural.” She gets a smile out of Cassie at that analogy and feels her chest warm. “I’m willing to try, if you are.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Schwimmer,” Cassie says wryly.

Rachel kisses her then—leans over until she’s pressing Cassie back into the sheets. It’s going to take time to put Cassie at ease and prove what Rachel already knows: that this can work if they want it to. But for now, Rachel can offer at least this much.

She’s spent enough time appreciating Cassie’s body from afar that now that she’s allowed to do it up close, she intends to make the most of it. Rachel lingers over the inconsequential places—shoulders and hands, the valley between Cassie’s breasts, the dip of her stomach as it meets with her hips. One of Rachel’s greatest strengths has always been her thoroughness, and she explores with her mouth and hands and eyes as thoroughly as she ever deconstructed a solo or a stage role. She works to plant love like a seed along every inch of Cassie’s body until Cassie believes every earnest proclamation that Rachel will give later. Until she believes that she actually even deserves it.

Cassie twists and cries as Rachel moves lower, and maybe trying oral sex during their first time is a bit ambitious, but Rachel has always been an overachiever. She takes her time and lets Cassie guide her, explores the softness of her thighs as readily as the wetness of her folds. When Cassie breaks, the cry that tears from her throat is heart wrenching. It reverberates so deeply within Rachel that she clambers back up to Cassie’s side to cradle her while she comes down. Cassie clings to her like a lifeline, like Rachel is her last great hope, and Rachel has never felt more privileged to witness something in her life.

“Christ, Schwimmer,” Cassie says breathlessly after a few minutes of rest. “You really do have to be the best at everything, don’t you?”

“I told you not to underestimate me,” Rachel grins.

Cassie’s eyes are soft when she responds. “I never did.”

xx

Nothing is ever simple, but with Cassie, it gets pretty close. They’ve always pushed each other to be better, and that doesn’t change just because the nature of their relationship has. Rachel decides to try out for more Broadway roles going into her Junior year at NYADA, and when she lands a promising role that leads to more opportunities down the line, Cassie is there to support her.

Fame suits Rachel, of course. She always knew that it would. New York fame is not nearly the same thing as LA fame—the community is smaller and more involved. When people recognize her, they treat her more like an acquaintance rather than a massive celebrity. But the gossip blogs follow her whereabouts obsessively, and when they get wind of her relationship with Cassie, it’s a bit of a mess at first. Cassie is on edge for weeks afterwards, but Rachel stays calm. She knows that things will settle. And the more that people see them out and about, getting coffee or groceries or enjoying a show, the more the stories turn from outrage to curiosity, until eventually the online Broadway community supports the couple so rabidly that people end up clamoring for spots in Cassie’s summer dance classes.

Maybe it’s not the fame that Cassie dreamed of when she was a little girl. Cassie has decided to let that pass her by in favor of a quieter life. But Rachel can see the happiness that radiates off of her in waves, no matter how much she likes to pretend that the hopelessness of her students is a burden on her very existence. And when they get dinner with Kurt and Blaine, or help Brittany, Quinn, and Santana move into a new apartment, or drive up to visit with Cassie’s sister for the holidays, Rachel knows that she made the right choice walking back into that dance studio all those years ago. Life always has a way of guiding you to the right place just when you need it most.


End file.
